I am so high, I could fly

Sometime ago, our dear peace-loving Pakistani/Bangladeshi friends decided that we Hindus do not really understand spirituality and religion, and decided to ask some existential questions by scattering rather large firecrackers in the eternal town of Varanasi. I will not bore you with how many were felled by such brutal questioning, but I will point out how at least one question failed to make it to the exam centre due to a rather bizzare reason:

Had it not been for an electrician on a high after his daily fix of bhang*, the tragedy at Varanasi could have been much greater. Babulal Rawat was wandering near the Dashaswamedh Ghat when he came across a pressure cooker and with the nonchalance that comes with cannabis, held it in his hands and cut the wires. Even he did not realise that he had defused a pressure cooker bomb on Terror Tuesday**.

We now know of at least one way to save the populace from bombs - keep half of them high on cannabis. They will be tossing terrible suitcases nonchalantly into rivers.

Alternatively, get the natives high on dope - really high - so that if some of them are blown sky high, their change in altitude (and circumstance) would just seem like a variation in dosage to them. Not to mention the stars and flashing lights. I mean, who gives a shit?

Does my ire filter through?
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* A derivative of the leaf and flower of a female cannabis plant. It is sometimes smoked. You are called gay if you smoke the derivative of the male cannabis plant.
** The exam was held rather cruelly on a Tuesday - rather a favourite day amongst the gentiles.